


The best stories come from the worst nights

by ExcellentlyEllen



Series: The songs we sing, the lyrics we live by [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1429117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExcellentlyEllen/pseuds/ExcellentlyEllen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of unrelated shorts, based on songs I like...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The best stories come from the worst nights

**Author's Note:**

> So, i was driving the other night, with my ipod plugged in to my radio system. And one of my (currently) favorite songs came on. I decided it would make a great song to base a story on. And also figured i'd make a series out of it.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever owned the characters of arrow, I just like to write about them  - song: Finest Hour by Gavin Degraw

Felicity had a bad week. A leak in the upstairs bathroom caused the ceiling to collapse, and she had to find another place to stay. Oliver got stabbed (again) on a mission, because she didn’t see the guy hiding behind the crates.   
Oliver had a bad week, because he got stabbed (again). He and Sara had ended things, mutual decision, because of the excess amount of darkness between them. She had gone to visit her mother for a little while.   
Diggle had a bad week. He had a giant fight with Lyla, something to do with her work for ARGUS and the suicide squad.   
Oliver decides it’s time for a ‘team arrow’ fieldtrip to boozeville. A night on the town is what they need most of all.  
She woke up to the sound of her cellphone going off. It felt like a bomb exploding in her head. She tried to move, which caused her head to pound like a ton of bricks landed on it, and her stomach to do backflips. Not a good idea she thought to herself. Oh man.. What happened last night? The last thing she remembers is the VIP lounge of some club (not Verdant, because Oliver said it would be too close to arrow business) and a bottle of tequila. And vodka. And rum, she thought. 

After what felt like forever, she figured she could move from her position. Which was cold, now that she thought about it. And hard. She opened one eye, and found she was lying on the little carpet in her bathroom. Right next to the toilet. Okay, that explained the disgusting taste in her mouth, she thought.

Her phone beeped again, getting impatient for not being acknowledged the first time. She moved her arm and felt around until she could finally grab the annoying little machine. Getting herself up (gently, gently) into a sitting position she opened the text. Hu, it’s from Oliver she thought as she saw the sender. How is he already up was the second thing she wondered. He’d drunk at least as much as she had. Then again, he’d probably built up a bigger resistance to the stuff ages ago.

Turns out, there were a few pictures attached to the text, which read only 2 words: last night! Oh my god. Those pictures… They really did all that stuff last night? Damn.  
There was one picture of her, appearing to be really into dancing with a redheaded girl. Really into! There was one picture of some guy doing body shots off of her bellybutton. No wait, that wasn’t some guy, that was… Oliver! There was one picture with her dancing with John on top of some car parked by the side of the road. And there was one of them running from a cop who caught them doing the dancing. This was so so so bad!

Another chime brought Felicity back to the here and now, albeit with a little more shame displayed on her cheeks. Oliver again. This text read, do you remember asking that redhead to marry you? ‘Cause I’ve got video! OH NO!! She was going to kill him for that! 

After about half an hour trying to get up, she finally came to a wobbling stance. And after that about 10 more minutes of just standing, to make the room stop spinning. She zombie-walked over to her kitchen, looking for the aspirin and a bottle of water and made her way to her couch. She lay down again. 

That’s when she noticed her front door. It looked.. like it was kicked in? No way, that wasn’t possible! Was it? Oh man, this couldn’t get any worse, could it?

Turned out, it could. She scrolled through the pictures again, only just now noticing another picture all the way at the bottom. It was Oliver’s really nice Mercedes parked against a trash-container, which in turn looked to be rammed in an electrical cabinet. 

At that time, she noticed her purse lying abandoned next to her feet at the end of the couch. She slide-kicked it to her hand and opened it. Out tumbled at least 15 bar napkins, each with a different phone number scribbled across it. And a drink receipt, for, WHAT!!!, 2000 dollars?? What did they do, bought the entire bar a round of drinks? Come to think of it, that might be a distinct possibility, because come on, we were talking about Oliver weren’t we. She looked at the receipt again. CENTRAL CITY? They went drinking in Central City? What the flying hell-monkeys?!

She moved on to her side, and flinched. She looked down to find her body full of bluish marks. Bruises? How, what, why?? And, as if he was long-distance reading her mind, her phone chimed with another message. It read: forgot this picture. If I’d know all it took was some girl to pinch my ass to get you to fight, I would have done that ages ago! The picture was of her, and some brunette rolling on the floor, pulling hair. Oh my. Can the humiliation just stop, please!?!

After a whole day of trying to shake off that god awful hangover, she packed her things and headed down to the foundry. Diggle and Oliver were there, clearly not as jolly fit as usual. HA! Serves them right! She marched over to her, tossed her broken doorknob at their feet, looked Oliver in the eyes and said: “You owe me a new door!” and walked to her desk. 

Right then and there, she vowed to never ever go out with Oliver Queen and John Diggle, ever again!


End file.
